


Bury the Lead

by TheNevemore



Series: YoonMin Bingo [4]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Journalism AU, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Potential Triggers, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6651085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNevemore/pseuds/TheNevemore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When photojournalist Yoongi gets an assignment to go take pictures of a local music festival, he thinks he knows of someone who would just love to go with him. But sometimes, even the best ideas can go horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury the Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Another YoonMin bingo entry. Just to make this terribly, painfully clear: there will be no sequel to this fic. Also, be advised as there is character death ahead and a situation involving a shooter.

It was just another assignment: go to the local music festival and take pictures. Yoongi liked the music festival; it was small enough to not be overwhelming but still big enough to draw really good acts. Getting home the evening of receiving his assignment, the brunet kicked his shoes off and wandered further into the apartment. “Hey, you finally made it home,” a bright voice called from the kitchen.

“Yeah. Hongbin was being picky about what photos we used for the Song story.” Yoongi tucked his camera bag on its usual shelf before stretching, joints popping in protest. “Hey babe, you got any plans tomorrow?”

“Plans?” A head of dark hair popped around the corner. “No. The dance studio is closed this weekend for renovations, so no classes.”

“Cool.” Walking over, Yoongi drew Jimin around the corner and into his arms. “Means you’re going with me to the music festival tomorrow. They want me to take pictures there, but that won’t take more than a few minutes.” He stole a slow, thoughtful kiss. “But we’d get in for free.”

Jimin wound his arms around Yoongi’s neck and beamed at him. “Mm, you mean the music festival where I fell in love with a gorgeous guy with a scowl so strong it could strip paint?” Another languid kiss was passed between them. “The same music festival where he confessed his love mid diss track?”

Yoongi flushed at the reminder, but his expression remained stony. “Yeah, that music festival.” Jimin got a pinch to the rear, just for his cheek. “Don’t even pretend you don’t want to go. I know you scheduled the reno for this weekend because you were hoping to go.”

“I won’t even try to pretend,” Jimin said, laughing so hard his entire body shook in Yoongi’s grip. “I was starting to think maybe you forgot about it, though.”

Scoffing, Yoongi pulled Jimin over to the couch so they could cuddle. “I don’t forget. I was just trying to convince Choi we needed a story on it, and that I should be the photographer for it. Because not having to pay for the music festival tickets means I can take you for dinner after. Steak, even.”

That made Jimin smile so wide practically all his teeth were on display. “Really? Ah, you’re a genius Min Yoongi!” He sealed his mouth over Yoongi’s for a breathless kiss. Living on the combined incomes of a journalist and dance teacher meant money was almost always tight, so the prospect of getting to actually go out to dinner was well worth a celebratory make out session.

\---

Spring clung to the air in the shape of fluttering petals from blossoming trees and a slight nip in the morning breeze. Jimin loved it. Spring with its brightness and sunshine was a welcome relief after the piercing darkness of the winter months; he was almost a flower himself with how he came to life as soon as the snows melted. He, unlike Yoongi, was ecstatic to roll out of bed that Saturday morning; he sang in the shower, put on his favorite outfit, and even made breakfast before his lover finally awoke. They ate breakfast in silence (Yoongi practically inhaling his coffee) before the brunet finally seemed to come around. “I’ll be ready to go after I shower,” he mumbled.

“I’ll try to not die from excitement,” Jimin promised, throwing in a greasy wink for good measure. Yoongi simply rolled his eyes and went to get ready.

By the time they reached the music festival, the sounds of vendors and the strains of a jazz solo clouded the air. Yoongi perked up at the music; the saxophonist was wildly talented. His hands instinctively curled around the body of his camera, readying it to snap as many pictures as struck his fancy. At his side, Jimin was practically vibrating with excitement at the sight of the booths, which included not only local musicians but artists and farmers selling their wares. “Do you think Jin is set up yet?” he asked, looking over at Yoongi.

Yoongi snorted. “Yeah. Did you want to stop past to say hello? I think he’s over in D-quad again.”

“Jin means cinnamon rolls,” Jimin said sagely. “There is no want to stop past. Only need.” Jimin happily grabbed Yoongi by the belt loop – knowing better than to grab his arm or camera bag – and started through the crowd.

“What are you now, Yoda?” Yoongi drawled. Jimin just ignored him, continuing on through the crowd.

It was easy to find Jin in the mess of booths, because his was one with an extremely long line. Everyone who lived in the county knew about Jin’s abilities in the kitchen, which meant his extremely rare festival and farmer’s market appearances were heralded like the Second Coming itself. People would swarm as soon as the booth opened, and Jin would have Jungkook and Taehyung selling baked goods until there was nothing left to sell. Which, one would think was impossible based on the side of their trailer, but they always managed to run out before afternoon hit. Seeing the swarm of happily chatting festival goers, Yoongi drew to a halt, slipping free from Jimin’s grip. He began snapping pictures of the crowd surround Jin’s booth before turning to look around. While he worked on capturing the first images of an inevitable hoard of pictures, Jimin snuck to the back of the booth. By the time Jimin returned to Yoongi’s side, he not only had a cinnamon roll, but also a sticky bun, a loaf of bread, a couple croissants, and even an apple turnover for Yoongi. “Jin says hello,” Jimin announced brightly. “And he sent the turnover just for you. Eat it before it gets cold; it’s fresh off the truck from the bakery.”

Yoongi’s camera was at last lowered from his eye; the turnovers were a serious business. “Thanks.” Yoongi snuck a kiss before adjusting his camera out of the path of calling crumbs. Taking the turnover, he looked towards the booth. Catching sight of Jin, who was watching them, Yoongi held up the turnover and then gave a wave. Jin’s body seemed to shake with laughter before he turned the wave. Biting into the flaky pastry, he practically melted it was so delicious. “Oh, skies, I still swear Jin must’ve sold his soul to be able to make these. They’re so good. So good.”

Jimin giggled. “Yoongi, stop it! You’re scaring the children!”

\---

Afternoon had melted in thick and heavy as the humidity rose. There was going to be a storm that night. But, the festival goers were not put off: They had their umbrellas and disposable ponchos, just in case the heavens opened up early. Yoongi was keeping a wary eye on the clouds, though, since his camera really didn’t appreciate getting wet. Seeing him looking upwards for the hundredth time, Jimin rolled his eyes at the brunet. “Just another hour, then we can go. Hoseok and Namjoon are doing a set in twenty minutes, and you know we can’t miss that!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just paranoid,” Yoongi grumbled.

“I know,” Jimin laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

“Yeah, don’t start that list. You’d never finish.” A sly little smirk turned Yoongi’s lips as he looked over at Jimin, who punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Come on, admit it. It’s true.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Whatever, loser.” He leaned in to steal another kiss, but the distant sound of a pop drew his attention. “What was that?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Sounded like a car backfiring to me.” Lifting his camera, he took a picture of a group of kids dancing to the music. The popping sound came again. And again. Turning, Yoongi pointed his camera towards the sound – instinct – and clicked away before he could even register what was in the view finder.

That’s when he could hear the screams over the music.

The brunet could barely process what his eyefinder revealed: A man with a gun. He could not even think to move, to drop out of sight, before the gun was pointed in his direction. Pain rocketed through his body as it hit the ground, but it lacked the piercing agony of being shot. (Once, Yoongi had been covering a street gang story that had gone horribly, terribly wrong. Luckily the bullet had gone clean through his calf.) But something wasn’t right. He could feel the warm puffs of someone breathing into his neck and the familiar, sturdy weight of a body atop his. Jimin. Jimin was on top of him. Moving carefully, Yoongi planted his hands on the ground and pushed up, but his hands slipped against the grass. Lifting a hand, he was surprised to find it coated in thick, red liquid. Blood. A gasp died on his lips as he heard Jimin groan behind him. Twisting around, he looked at his boyfriend, who was sprawled on his back. “Jimin,” he rasped. “Are you alright?” He crawled closer, no longer caring about anything but finding out where the blood had come from.

Jimin shuddered. “Definite alright,” he mumbled. And then Yoongi saw it: the wound. Just above where he knew Jimin had a freckle on his stomach, a growing pool of red was dying the pale blue of his boyfriend’s shirt. Yoongi clamped a hand over it and fought to keep his nerves down.

“Alright means you staying awake, yeah? Don’t close those beautiful eyes, babe. You’ve got to stay awake long enough for us to get you help.” Pulling off his jacket, Yoongi wadded it up and pressed it against the wound. If it had been on a leg or an arm, he wouldn’t have hesitated to use his camera strap to make a tourniquet, but what could he do for a stomach wound? Cursing the situation, Yoongi did not see the shooter being taken down by a brave pair of women – one a former marine, the other a mother who refused to stand by. Yoongi didn’t even see the paramedics checking on everyone they could reach. All he could see was the way Jimin’s chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose…and fell.

Rose.

And fell.

Rose.

And fell.

And then…

Nothing. 

**Author's Note:**

> -offers tissues-


End file.
